


Paper, Bow, Ribbon and Scotch

by EventHorizon



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, M/M, gift wrapping, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 00:24:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EventHorizon/pseuds/EventHorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lestrade volunteered to assist with the Christmas toy drive at work and Mycroft is delighted to step in and assist.  That may be a decision he comes to regret...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paper, Bow, Ribbon and Scotch

      “Am I witnessing an early arrival of the End of Days?”

Mycroft looked around his well-appointed and elegant sitting room and marveled at the sheer chaos that had erupted in the few hours since he had left for his office.  Boxes, rolls of gaudy wrapping paper and what must be miles of garish ribbon… then there was the veritable ground zero where his beloved Detective Inspector sat surrounded by pieces of metal and what appeared to be a bottle of their finest Scotch.  A half-empty bottle of their finest Scotch…

      “I’m not that lucky.”

Toeing his way through several columns of various dolls, games and plastic versions of service vehicles, Mycroft approached his lover, though with a caution borne of many experiences with his Gregory’s frayed temper.

      “I am quite familiar with the concept of a robbery; however, I do not believe I have heard of its inverse being perpetrated.  Especially with this degree of vigor.”

Lestrade sighed and set down his wrench, leaning back on his hands to look up at the tall bureaucrat.

      “I said I’d help with the annual holiday toy drive and now I’m fairly certain that if I see Father Christmas, I’m running him in for being a public nuisance.”

      “Oh, has your Christmas spirit withered?  I did not think such was possible given the sheer number of hours I have had to endure your personal holiday music collection and your special box of Christmas DVD’s that we have enjoyed these past days.”

      “Don’t knock Rudolph, Mycroft.  I am _not_ in the mood.”

No, his Gregory certainly did not seem to be, though, a petulant and frustrated Gregory Lestrade held its own adorable appeal in Mycroft’s eyes.

      “Perhaps I may be of assistance?  What have you been tasked to do?”

Lestrade took a drink from his bottle and waved it around to emphasize the enormity of his responsibility.

      “I’ve got to wrap all these gifts and put together not one, but three, bicycles that got donated at the last minute.  I’m not sure how I got voted in for that job, but when they dropped off my portion of work, I didn’t see any other major construction projects hiding in the lorry.”

      “It was likely your well-deserved reputation for responsibility and capability, my dear, so view it as a compliment.”

      “It was likely that they decided to drop the job on the one who’d be dumb enough not to say no.”

Mycroft set down his valise and umbrella, then leaned over and kissed Lestrade’s very disheveled hair.

      “I shall clad myself in more suitable clothing and join you in your battle.  I will only be a moment, so do attempt to hold your temper in check until I return.”

      “Not bloody likely.”

      “The holidays are a difficult time to find a glazier to rectify the situation of the window assassinated by a hurled hammer.”

      “Fine, I promise to keep my assassinations to a minimum.”

      “You are too good to me.”

__________

Lestrade felt the first smile of the afternoon erupt on his face seeing his partner re-enter the sitting room.  Everyone gave John crap about his jumpers, but that was only because no one knew about Mycroft’s.  For all his power and wealth, his Mycroft was one of those people who were cold, even in the summer.  Maybe it was a slow metabolism, which would also explain his constant battle with weight, but laying with his partner at night was like having a cool and refreshing breeze blow over his own fiery skin.  Not even Mycroft’s eternal three-piece suits made him sweat and at home, with a fire raging and heat turned on full-force, he wrapped himself in the warmest and most expensive jumpers on Earth.  And his holiday selection was truly a balm for the eyes.

      “The snowflake one!  That’s my favorite.”

      “Isn’t it fascinating?  Every snowflake on the garment is unique, as per Nature’s tradition.  I was most adamant about that when I commissioned its creation.” 

      “Well, it’s beautiful, just like the person wearing it.  Now, what do you want to do?”

      “What would you _have_ me do?”

      “Want to wrap?  There’s plenty of paper and ribbon and bows and tape.  There’s the list of kids and what toy’s they get, so make sure to put a tag on each gift so they know who go give it to.”

      “Very well.  I am delighted to be of assistance.  And I have brought a glass for your libations.  Drinking from the bottle… really, Gregory.”

      “It was fastest.”

      “And now we may add propriety to pace.  I have even brought a glass for myself, so please add something to it other than air.”

Mycroft handed both bits of cut crystal to his lover and settled himself down on the rug among the clutter.  Wrapping… paper, ribbon, bow, tape… all coming together in some form to shroud a box in holiday cheer.  Logic dictated a pattern of layering – paper then ribbon then bow – interspersed with tape as some form of custard between layers of cake.   The only question was how to fashion and fold the paper into the appropriate configuration and properly arrange the accessories for best effect.

      “Mycroft?”

      “Yes, my dear?”

      “Why are you staring in to space like you’re on drugs?”

      “Ah… I am contemplating a method of attack.”

      “Most people don’t think about attacks at Christmastime, but I’m marrying a special person, I guess.”

      “And may summer arrive quickly so that may be accomplished.”

      “We’ve got to survive this first, so get going.”

      “In due time.  One does not begin an initiative without suitable preparation.”

      “I’ve done the preparation already.  There’s all the stuff and… here’s the scissors.  Begin.”

      “That was a marvelous use of tone, Gregory.  Very commanding.”

      “Like that?  I’ve been practicing.”

      “I find it very surprisingly enticing.”

      “Well, maybe I can practice it a little more later on.  Be a good boy and more than dolls might get wrapped up in pretty ribbon.”

Mycroft immediately set aside a roll of lovely blue ribbon just for the occasion.  Blue complemented his skin wonderfully.

      “I look forward to it highly.”

      “Of course, if you don’t get any presents wrapped, the deal’s off.”

      “Oh… then I best get started.”

<……………..>

      “Mycroft?”

      “Gregory?”

      “About that getting started… is it going to happen anytime soon?”

      “I… yes.  Perhaps.”

      “You have no idea how to wrap a package, do you?”

      “Not as such, no.”

Lestrade was completely unsurprised.  This was the man who believed that socks were taken by elves at night, sprinkled with magic dust, and returned clean each morning.  Setting aside his drink, the Detective Inspector crawled away from this personal bit of mechanical sculpture and picked up a game from the pile of toys, along with a roll of paper.

      “Ok, watch me.  You pull out some paper then put the box down in the middle.  Shuffle it around and pull out more paper if you need to.  Check that it’ll actually fold over the whole box because nothing is more heartbreaking than cutting the sodding paper too short and having to start over.   Tape one half down, then the other half.  Squish in the short edges along the sides of the box and use more tape.  Fold up the rest to close things up and tape.  Do the same on the other side and then put some ribbon on if you want to, or just slap on a bow.  Write the kid’s name on the tag and get that on the box last or you can use the bow to tack it down to the paper, but get it good and secure so it doesn’t fall off.  And there you go!  One wrapped gift!  Why are you frowning?”

      “Is it supposed to be quite that… asymmetrical?”

      “What?  Oh, yeah, I did get the paper a little crooked didn’t I?  Well, it doesn’t matter.  It’s wrapped and now you move on to the next one.”

      “The ends are rather wrinkly.  Should you use more ribbon to hide the untidiness?”

      “No!  That’s the way it’s supposed to be!”

      “I assure you, the gifts I present are not wrinkly and decorated on a bias.”

      “That’s because you pay people to do it and they’re… professional gift wrappers or something.  This is how the common folk wrap packages.  It’s a fine job.  Great, really.  Sometimes, you just toss the gift in a sack and hand it over like take-away, for christ’s sake.”

      “I did not mean to offend, my dear… I simply wish to do an appropriate job and require a full disclosure of the protocols and expectations.”

      “Just do what I did and you’ll be fine.  Take more time with the details if you’d like so it’s not so… ok, yeah, I did do that pretty fast, didn’t I?   Right, not my best effort, but you’ve got the gist, correct?”

      “I believe I do.”

      “Good, then get started and I’ll continue trying to figure out directions written by someone who has a grudge against anyone who’d be stupid enough to buy a bicycle that wasn’t pre-assembled.”

Lestrade crawled back to his nemesis and left Mycroft to begin picking out his first victim.

__________

_20 minutes later_

      “Mycroft?”

      “Yes?”

      “Is that the same package you started about a year ago?”

      “Hmmm… oh, yes, most certainly.  And I believe I almost have it completed.  You may inspect if you like.”

Crawling again over the debris field, Lestrade looked at Mycroft’s work and had to admit he’d done a good job.  An eerily good job.  Every bit of the pattern was matched up no matter where you looked, even though it took some interesting folding in some areas, and the lines were laser-straight.  If he took out a ruler, he was entirely certain that every bit was completely symmetrical and, looking around Mycroft’s sitting form, not a bit of materials had been wasted since the normal slivers of excess paper and ribbon that accompanied a gift  wrapping were completely missing.

      “This… you did a great job.  It’s lovely.”

It was a rare thing that Lestrade could teach his lover something new, but it always got him right in the heart when his Mycroft’s face beamed with pride over a job well done.

      “Thank you.  Now, I shall affix the bow and tag.”

      “And then move to gift number 2.”

      “Of course.  And how many are you responsible for wrapping?”

      “Don’t know exactly.  Maybe 50?”

      “50?”

      “A few less, perhaps.  We did a big drive this year and really had a good haul for the kids.”

      “50?”

      “You’ll survive, love.  And look, here’s more Scotch to keep those fingers nimble.  Want some music?”

      “May I choose the piece?”

      “Are you going to pick something Christmasy?”

      “Is it a requirement?”

      “Yes!  You can’t wrap packages and put together bikes and stuff stockings and listen to anything else!”

      “Stockings?”

      “Did I forget to mention those?”

      “Yes.  You did.”

      “Oh… well, consider it a Christmas surprise.”

      “I believe another finger of Scotch is required for this revelation, Gregory.”

      “Take two, love.  Believe me, you’re going to need them.”

__________

_Six hours later_

      “How you doing, Mycroft?”

      “I am, I believe, proceeding nicely.  Though it is getting a tad difficult to keep the lines straight since we started the second bottle of Scotch.”

      “But you soldier on like a champion.  That’s why I love you.  And because you’re gorgeous.  With a fabulous body.  Wanna shag?”

      “Gregory, I do believe you are feeling the effects of your spirits more than am I.”

      “Started earlier.  So, do you?”

      “When we have completed our assignment.  Work before play keeps the Empire strong.”

      “Who cares if the Empire’s strong if you can’t have a quick one with your fiancé when you want it?”

      “Patience, my dear.  Besides, you have yet to complete your final bicycle and I believe you should do so while you are still possessed of a sufficient quantity of your senses to do the job properly.”

      “Yeah, I guess you’re right.  Can’t have some poor little tyke pedaling down the road and the whole thing comes apart under him.  He’d hate Father Christmas forever and I can’t have that on my conscience.”

      “That is not part of your instructions, is it?  Delivering the gifts while wearing the appropriate costume?”

      “No!  God no… there’s others braver than me for that.”

      “Ah… that is good.  I shudder to think of your person assaulted by hordes of children with runny noses and soggy bottoms.”

      “Nope, I’m construction only, not delivery.”

      “But you shall, correct, in the years to come?”

Lestrade squinted at his lover for a moment and used a little more Scotch to kick his mouth into gear.

      “What are you talking about?”

      “For our offspring?  We _did_ discuss the possibility of adoption or surrogacy and you were quite enthusiastic, as am I, on the issue.”

      “For _our_ kiddies?  Well… I guess… wait a minute.  Why don’t _you_ wear the Father Christmas outfit?”

      “Don’t be absurd.”

      “What’s absurd about it?  You’re as much their father as I am!”

      “You have a more appropriate build for the role.  I am much better suited to escort our children, wakened from their fitful slumber late on Christmas Eve, to peek at the jolly man leaving gifts under the tree.”

      “Did you just say I was fat?”

      “No, but your physique is far more vigorous and manly than is mine.  And any peeking of hair from beneath your wig shall not arouse undue suspicion, as would mine.”

      “Oh… ok, I actually like the sound of that.  Fine, I’ll be Father Christmas.”

      “And if we choose to spend the holiday in the country, I shall provide you with a truly lovely sleigh in which to ride away after your duty has been done.”

      “Are you kidding?”

      “Not at all!  What a delight it shall be for the children to watch Santa leave with his empty sack and ride away in his sleigh over the fields of snow.  I shall provide a roaring fire in the fireplace so you have reason not to use the chimney as your method of egress.”

      “Thanks for that.  But what if it doesn’t snow?”

      “If nature chooses to forsake the holiday spirit, I shall do the deed myself.”

      “And our babes will never know their house is the only one with snow on the ground for a hundred miles in any direction.”

      “That shall remain our little secret, Mr. Kringle.”

      “Well, it’s for my little ones, so I’m not going to complain one bit.  How many more presents do you have to wrap?”

      “I believe… I see only a small tower of gifts near the door and that should conclude this portion of our mission.”

      “And I’ve only got a few more bits to stick on this bike, so we’ll be ready for the stockings.”

      “I have yours, if you are curious.”

      “My what?”

      “Stocking.”

      “You got me a stocking?”

      “But of course!  This is our first Christmas together and I thought it an appropriate gesture of celebration.”

      “That’s… thank you, Mycroft.  I’m thrilled.  That’s very romantic of you.  Come here so I can shag you… _show_ you… my appreciation.”

      “Later, my beloved.  We must first break the stocking barricade.”

      “There’s a lot of them, just so you know.”

      “Take that as incentive to work industriously.”

      “Then shagging?”

      “With ribbons.”

__________

_3 hours later_

      “And that’s the last of them.  One billion stockings, filled up with all the little things a kid should find on Christmas morning, architecturally arranged for proper space use courtesy of Mr. Mycroft Holmes.”

      “While I admit to a great deal of relief that we have closed the door on this endeavor, I must also admit to a feeling of accomplishment and, dare I say it, a permeation of the holiday spirit.”

      “Yeah, feels good to lend a hand when you can, especially to make others happy.  Want me to sign up for duty again next year?”

      “Absolutely.  It is a small price to pay for a worthy cause and good practice for when we must enact such a thing for our own family.  I envision many a sleepless Christmas Eve while we prepare the requisite holiday magic for the coming morning.”

      “Alright then, we’ll be on volunteer list as soon as it goes up.  Now it’s… christ, it’s about time for you to start getting ready to get back to work.  Sorry about that, love.  I’ve got the day off, but I forgot you don’t.”

      “And you forget that it is a simple matter for me to arrange to work from home.  Are you required to transport our efforts or shall they be collected?”

      “Day at home, I like the sound of that.  And all of this is going to be picked up later this morning to get sorted.  I think they start handing them out tomorrow, but I might be wrong.”

      “Then we have a few free hours to occupy until your colleagues arrive.  Have you any suggestions for how we might pass the time in a pleasant fashion?”

      “A few come to mind.  And look… there’s the pretty blue ribbon for the first idea on the list.  Care to join me?”

      “Shall you use your commanding tone?”

      “As much as you like.”

      “I believe we are creating our first Christmas tradition, Gregory.  I am unspeakably pleased.”

      “Me too.  And may it be the first of many.”


End file.
